All in Endurance
Rich and I were gifted two very different children. I used to hate this. It has made me cry and feel completely at a loss sometimes as we navigated the road to do what “was best” or “would work” for two boys who function in completely opposite ways but over the last few years I have grown to appreciate their uniqueness.
Actually, that is the wrong word. I don’t just appreciate it, I have come to celebrate it. I love that our boys are their own people. But it has taken a lot to get there.
As I headed to the back of my garage to get change for a woman buying some clothes for her son, I turned around just in time to see grandma take a nasty fall. The wet cement had gotten the better of her and I rushed over to offer my help and tell her how sorry I was for her slipping. I kept talking nervously until I realized she wasn’t understanding a lick of what I was saying. And then it happened.
In the spirit of being transparent and honest, I’ll share a little bit about this season of life that I’m in. Last year, I entered into a relationship and it became very serious. So much so that we had looked at and tried on engagement rings, picked out songs and various other details of the wedding I was so expectant for. And then one day recently, I found myself no longer in that relationship. I was so unprepared for that loss and to be honest with you, I didn’t accept it. At the core of my being I so much did not want to be in the season I had just entered into that I was determined to find a way around it.
So, this thing doesn’t come with directions? Why is she crying? Why won’t she STOP crying? What do you mean she isn’t latched properly and furthermore, how does the word latch have to do with the incessant milk draining from my body as if I’m a dairy cow out to pasture? Why won’t she STOP crying? Her poop should be what color? You mean I have to actually examine it? Why won’t she STOP crying? Does this thing ever sleep? I’m sure she will never sleep. Ever.
It was nearly five o’clock and the invitations all said seven. I hadn’t done my makeup, or hair, or started baking, or even finished cleaning. However I was sitting on my couch watching one of my favorite television shows that I had missed in the rush of the week and now that my husband had taken the boys for the night so I could prepare for my first youth pastor’s wives “monthly meet up” I had finally had the time to sit down.
Not that I truly had time for sitting, but it didn’t matter. I looked at the clock, calculated the time each task would take, and continued watching.
